102 THE entomologist's hecoud. 



as early as the 7th June, and as hite as the middle of July, in fair 

 order, the bright, warm weather before and after emergence doubtless 

 being a leading factor in the variation. 



But, surely, in such a wind as catches our breath on this stony 

 ridge we shall not even see, let alone catch, our Large Blue. Step 

 down among the debris of the deserted quarry hole, and lie perdu for 

 a time. Pi/rausta jmrjmralis, Enni/vliia aujiuinalis, or E. cingulalis, 

 you will, by sharp watching, see popping from flower to flower ; 

 Acidalia ornata may be awakened from her nap in the coarse grass, 

 and the Common Blue may seek refuge from the bufl'eting winds in 

 the friendly hollows of the rough ground. Then, if you are lucky, 

 L. arion may come saiUng along, and dip down among the tall grass. 

 Let it settle, and note its spotted beauty as the slender mast of grass 

 it holds by bends with its light weight in the breeze. If the time is 

 late in the afternoon, our friend may select the grass stem that suits 

 him best for his night's lodgment, and like the common blues, who 

 have already gone to roost, with their heads downwards on the shorter 

 stems, he, too, may settle down for the night. He has probably 

 flown many miles during the day, and the slanting sunbeams from 

 the west light him to his well-earned rest ; while the wind plays 

 an iEolian lullaby to the hundreds of winged things that seek repose 

 and safety from their enemies. Though a storm of rain may rush 

 along, and lightning even blaze its terrors forth, all the curious 

 centres of life nestling on these apparently inhospitable hills, instinc- 

 tively hold on to their bending couches, while the rain-drops fall over 

 them harmlessly. The ruby-eyed moth may pay a flying visit in 

 " the glimpses of the moon " to the scented grass-flower, or the small 

 thyme-cups, but he soon passes on to gayer flowers. All the buzzing 

 and bustling community remain quiescent, until the morning sun 

 sends its message of light and warmth, and life once again startles the 

 sweet silence of the time. 



Now we visit our most promising spots two or three weeks later. 

 The weather is hotter, and only a female L. arion or two are seen 

 flying from clump to clump of thyme. As they rest on the flowers 

 their jagged wings are conspicuous from their shabbiness. Closely 

 watch them, and they will be seen to "mean business." Note the 

 spray of thyme they have just rested upon, and when they have left 

 it crouch down and examine it, and a little white egg will be found to 

 have been deposited near the base of a tiny blossom. I have watched 

 this process go on repeatedly, and have gathered many sprays of thyme, 

 each with its white egg. Anxious to work out the larval life-history 

 of the species, I have dug up clumps of thyme and sent them, or 

 sprays containing eggs, to the late Messrs. Newman and Buckler, Mr. 

 Porritt, and others ; but, as stated in NeAvman"s History of British 

 Butterflies, none of us got beyond a sight of the small pinkish larva, 

 which emerged, and after feeding a short time entered on the dan- 

 gerous career of hybernation, and speedily disappeared, whether from 

 the visit of some voracious enemy, or the absence of alternative food- 

 plants, no evidence was forthcoming. Marked clumps of thyme, con- 

 taining eggs, left undisturbed on the hills, I found to be equally 

 tenantless of larvae in the spring. Further searching in this direction 

 may, however, lead to better results. Many entomologists have come 

 from London and other distant places to capture the species, with 



